


causing commotion

by elizabethelizabeth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), If You Squint - Freeform, IfYouKnowWhatIMean, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/pseuds/elizabethelizabeth
Summary: Aziraphale pulled back from the kiss. Crowley whined, assumed it unbecoming, but Aziraphale did not look as if he minded. The heat that accompanied Crowley's blush felt like it traveled through his whole body, to the soles of his feet, and it was a flame that didn't burn. "Will you be good to me, love?"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 179
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	causing commotion

**Author's Note:**

> spiritual successor to [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069911), but this can, of course, be read alone!<3 many thanks to moveslikebucky and doorwaytoparadise for looking over my words and determining they were Good (aka beta reading)

Lunch at the Ritz lasted the absolute minimum of two hours, by virtue of the courses being timed by satiety and the work ethic of the kitchen. If either Aziraphale or Crowley had wanted the meal to move faster, it would have happened. As it was, they were enjoying the frisson of tension between them, warm and fuzzy and requited. Turns out that longing and wanting was more bearable when it was reciprocated.

Their patience only went so far.

As soon as the bill had been paid, Aziraphale took Crowley by the hand and pulled him toward the coat check, a room set off from the main hallway and out of line of sight from the front door of the establishment. The din of diners faded behind them, softened by walls and a door painted dusty rose.

Crowley allowed himself only one exclamation of confusion after their arrival. "You didn't check a coat, though?"

Aziraphale turned, presumably to admonish Crowley, but noticed the teasing right before he spoke. His expression turned quickly to bemusement. "Don't act so oblivious, love, it's not becoming."

Oh, _love_ , eh? Crowley could get used to that.

The coat room was miraculously empty, a faint smell of ozone-influence hanging over their heads and Aziraphale closed the door and locked it despite the door in question not having a lock originally. Quicker than Crowley could comprehend, he found himself pushed against the door and kissed quite thoroughly. Aziraphale tasted of custard and cream, a complement to Crowley's burnt sugar and spice essence. Who was it that first discovered how well those flavors went together? Was it either of them? Might have been.

Aziraphale pulled back from the kiss. Crowley whined, assumed it unbecoming, but Aziraphale did not look as if he minded. The heat that accompanied Crowley's blush felt like it traveled through his whole body, to the soles of his feet, and it was a flame that didn't burn. "Will you be good to me, love?"

Oh, _good_ was on par with _nice_ and other words Crowley shivered at when they were directed his way. From Aziraphale's tongue, in his timbre, the words sounded all the more scandalous. Crowley couldn't push Aziraphale up against a wall in retaliation this time.

Crowley nodded.

"Verbally, if you would."

"I'll be good, angel."

Said angel beamed. "Push your trousers down, the human way if you please. Then touch yourself."

Aziraphale situated himself perpendicular to Crowley as he watched, unblinking and deliciously fascinated as Crowley undid his fly, struggled with the denim, pushed down the trousers with no small amount of struggle. Aziraphale kept watching. He sighed when Crowley's cock was exposed to the air. "Gorgeous. But, then, I knew you would be."

That had implications. That meant Aziraphale had imagined Crowley naked. Multiple times? A little horrifying, but in an appealing way that made Crowley whimper. When he took himself in hand, he didn't look at Aziraphale. He was content enough for now to hear Aziraphale's reactions, breathed into his neck at their proximity. The angel's moan was so low it was almost a growl. Crowley whimpered again, thrust into his hand, hoped that Aziraphale would take notice of his hips and how they moved (Crowley blamed the trousers, he always had, but the swagger had existed since Eden). 

"Very good, love. Beautiful. Is this how you touch yourself when you think of me?"

Crowley tried his very damnedest to laugh, weakened by an unintentional moan. "How-- _oh_ \--what makes you think I touch myself and think of you?"

Crowley was looking down at himself still, almost afraid to look at Aziraphale and break whatever spell had surely been placed over the two of them. Maybe this was a _very_ nice dream that Crowley could enjoy for a few moments longer.

"Look at me."

Crowley obeyed, ripped off his glasses in the process, and this was obviously real because the smile on Aziraphale's face was _new_ , Crowley had never seen it so bright before, tinted with that tell-tale bastard hint. "I'll admit, I wasn't sure. Correct me if I'm wrong, I'd hate to assume."

Why did he have to be _sweet_ at the same time? Infuriating. Wonderful.

"I thought of you. All the time. Maybe too much."

"Tell me."

" _Shit_ , Aziraphale." Now that he was looking at Aziraphale he felt caught in the gaze, completely at peace with never being released. How had he ever been nervous to look at Aziraphale, to be seen in return? "You want me to enumerate every time I had a wank thinking about you?" Crowley deliberately did not mention that his personal Venn diagram of “time’s he’s wanked” and “times he’s wanked thinking about Aziraphale” was a circle.

Aziraphale finally flushed to match Crowley's undeniable one. "Oh, that'd be fun, wouldn't it? We could make it a game." Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley's cheek, but it was a diversionary tactic. Instantaneously, Crowley found his hand pushed away in favor of the angel's warm grip. He moved slower than Crowley had. Bastard. Aziraphale continued to speak softly and excitedly. "I could list off a year, you could tell me what _exactly_ I'd done to inspire such lust in such a creature as you."

"What kind of creature am I, then?" Crowley's own voice was soft, less controlled--it threatened to break when Aziraphale grazed soft fingers beneath his cock, along his bollocks. Tease. "Demonic is the easy answer."

"You're a devil to be sure." Aziraphale took him in hand again, movements faster, slicker with the help of another miracle. "And unequivocally mine."

In the innumerable amount of times Crowley had imagined their first instance of intimacy, coming too quickly in a coat closet did not at all factor in, but the delicious reality was better than Crowley's imagination for once. "Aziraphale," Crowley gasped. "Fuck, angel. _My_ angel."

"Oh, I like that." Aziraphale pulled his hand away, placed it on Crowley's thigh in a gesture of comfort. Crowley whined. "But I'd like it better if you'd let me fuck you. Or have you forgotten the request I made of you earlier?"

Crowley had _not_ forgotten, recalled how Aziraphale ground his hips into Crowley’s and whispered about how he would inevitably take Crowley in the Ritz’s coatroom, but it was understandably hard to concentrate on their conversation two hours ago through the lust-haze that a particularly wonderful hand job brought about. Was it slightly unfair that Aziraphale was stellar at hand jobs without any prior experience? Possibly. Was Crowley going to complain? Obviously yes, but not necessarily about this.

"Crowley?" 

Oh, yeah, answering. That'd be a good thing.

"Yes. God, fuck, _yes_."

Aziraphale beamed as he squeezed Crowley's thigh. "Splendid. Take off your trousers and turn around for me, please."

 _Please_.

Gosh.

Crowley snapped himself into Aziraphale's specified state, and turned to face the door. His cheek pressed against the wood until he thought better of it and folded his arms beneath his head. There was silence as he waited. The combination cacophony of consumption and cutlery was muted beyond the door, hints of humans outside existing oblivious to Crowley and Aziraphale’s risky behavior. Wait he did, and patiently until he glanced behind to check Aziraphale was still there.

Aziraphale's eyes flicked up (presumably from Crowley's arse) to meet Crowley's gaze. "Do you know how beautiful you are, darling?"

The honest answer was no, he didn't. The demonic answer, and the one that he (hopefully) convincingly gave was "Part of my job, innit?"

Instead of laughing as Crowley had intended, Aziraphale's smile only widened. He held onto Crowley's hips with bold hands, grounding him to the earth they'd tried to save so valiantly. "We're retired, though, remember? You'll have to be beautiful just because now."

Wasn't it just like Aziraphale to remember the state of their employment at Crowley's most vulnerable? To turn it sweet instead of bitter? He loved this angel so very much.

"Bend your waist a bit more, love--that's it." A shuffle, a murmur of movement, Aziraphale's breath in a place it had never been previously. Crowley would have to try his best to not shake at the sensation forthcoming, but would probably fail spectacularly. "You know, I think you'll be the most delectable thing I taste tonight."

Crowley started to curse, but it was quickly interrupted by his own moan as Aziraphale, as promised, tasted him. Aziraphale spread him out, licked him over in the same way he sampled sustenance. Crowley couldn't help but enumerate the things this tongue had licked away: custard and ice lollies and pizza grease and naan crumbs, the entirety of culinary history. It was near egregious (perhaps even sacrilegious) for Aziraphale to say that Crowley was more delectable, but Aziraphale's moans of delight were undeniable. His tongue delved deeper, the moans reverberated through Crowley's body. Crowley, as predicted, shook and moaned in tandem.

"Aziraphale, _fuck_ , you're too good to me. You're good always and you shouldn't be good to me. God, your _tongue_." Said tongue fucked him faster, but only just. "I love you." He realized what he needed very suddenly. "I need to see you. Aziraphale, I need to see you. Can I turn around, please? _Fuck!_ "

With a speed possible by those of an angelic nature, Aziraphale pulled back, spun Crowley about, threw Crowley's legs over both shoulders, and went right back to task as if nothing had changed. As if that wasn't the most erotic display of strength Crowley had ever seen.

"Fuck, _angel_."

He could look his fill now.

Two hours. That was the sum total of how long the two of them had been intimate. Closer than normal. Fucking. Crowley cycled through the different categorizations of their trysts (plural! Wicked.) and they all felt insufficient. What word could Crowley possibly use to describe--

"This feels _fantastic_. You're amazing, angel."

Crowley buried his hands in Aziraphale's hair for lack of anything better to hold on to, and there really wasn't anything better than the white-gold strands beneath his fingertips. Aziraphale's gaze was as insistent as his tongue, staring unblinkingly as he tasted Crowley, breaching him with a heat near scorching. Shoulders braced against the door behind him, legs swung over Aziraphale's shoulders, and an angelic grip on his hips, Crowley felt strung out in the most literal of senses. 

And Aziraphale wouldn't stop staring. It seemed he enjoyed Crowley's moans and incessant talking.

"Do you like that, angel? Tasting me? You look so beautiful like this. God, your _tongue_ ," Crowley's voice broke as said tongue fluttered in an impossible flurry. "I wonder-- _fucking Christ_ \--if your cock fucks me near as well?"

Aziraphale pulled away, agony in absence. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there darling?"

Softly, gingerly, with too much care for Crowley's heart to conceivably handle, his legs were lowered to the floor. He felt fragile, close to breaking. It was phenomenal. 

Aziraphale stood. He didn’t wipe his mouth off; it shone and illuminated Aziraphale's bastard grin. "Watch me, love." He leaned close, whispered the next words. "Let's see how you like the look of my cock before I fuck you in earnest."

It was pure demonic willpower that kept Crowley from coming just from those words, though it was a near thing. 

There was no time wasted as Aziraphale stripped off his lower layers, shoes and trousers and pants piled on the floor in an uncharacteristic heap. It was a perfect picture of Aziraphale's impatience, his desire, his want for Crowley. This was how it felt to be wanted. He had an angel hard and wanting and impatient for him, of all creatures. 

That being said, it was no surprise that Crowley very much liked the look of Aziraphale's cock.

Aziraphale stroked himself. Crowley whimpered.

There was a wave of soft affection emanating from the angel, seemingly originating from his smile, but perhaps Crowley imagined it. Perhaps they'd both just stopped hiding for once. Whatever the reason, it made Crowley's heart beat a little faster as Aziraphale stepped closer and kissed him softly.

"Get one of your legs around me, love--yes, just like that. I'm going to fuck you now, if that's amenable to you?"

In answer, Crowley slid down onto Aziraphale's awaiting erection, slicked with a mindless miracle and...

Warm. Hot. Big, so fucking big, _Go-_ , _Sat-_ , _someone_ , Crowley felt split in two. In a lust haze, Crowley wished there was a way he could suck Aziraphale's prick and be fucked by it at the same time.

"We'll figure something out, dove."

Fuck. Had he said that out loud?

Crowley wrapped his other leg around Aziraphale's waist and buried his head in Aziraphale's neck to hide the flush he could feel creeping steadily down his cheeks and to his chest. A little mortifying, but Aziraphale hadn't seemed to mind. This was the angel who insisted on being fed while being seen to, presumably later that same day. It was a hell of a to-do list, no pun intended, but Crowley was more than up to task.

More immediately, though-

" _Angel_ ," Crowley said, a mantra to be repeated as long as his voice would last, which proved to not be very long at all. The whimpers turned into moans which turned into cries, making his voice more ragged with every thrust. It was perfect. Aziraphale was perfect. 

"Oh, sweetheart. _You_ are. You take me so well, so beautifully. So tight around me."

Crowley had to stop doing that. He was going to say something embarrassing if he didn't learn to keep his mouth shut.

"I love you."

Ah, well. Best laid plans.

Aziraphale--it was totally unfair actually, Crowley couldn't even finish the thought. Aziraphale held Crowley and made sure he didn't fall and dug his fingers into Crowley's hips and _smiled_ through it. That wasn't fair at all. No one should smile that much during sex, it just wasn't done. Or was it? Crowley, admittedly, didn't have much experience. And by much he meant any. But all that being said, he returned Aziraphale's grin and kissed him soundly. God, Aziraphale was good at this. Holding onto Crowley tightly, surely, with an unprecedented amount of strength. It made Crowley imagine being held: up, down, against, pinned to any and all available surfaces within reason. Maybe a few without reason. 

"I love you, too. My love, my Crowley--"

That did it.

Crowley arched his back, yelled out Aziraphale's name, and came. The pleasure radiated and reverberated through his body, through all available joints and tendons. He seemed to shake with every body part that could possibly shake. Aziraphale hadn't even touched his cock (yet, hopefully) which--was that pitiful? Coming untouched? From the shock and awe on Aziraphale's face, Crowley guessed not.

Crowley grinned more lasciviously, more intently. He ground down his hips with what little physical agency he possessed at this angle. "You like that, angel? Watching me come? Was all you, gorgeous. You're so good to me, fucking me so good-"

"So well."

"You're really going to correct my grammar at a time like this?"

"Every day is a new chance for learning," Aziraphale gasped out, moving his hips just slightly faster, enough for Crowley to notice and fixate on. _He_ was doing this. Aziraphale wanted _him_.

Wicked.

"You gonna come for me, angel? Fill me? Fuck me, angel." Aziraphale did. "Harder." Aziraphale did. "Come for me, sweetheart."

Aziraphale did.

Crowley didn't get to see Aziraphale's face this time around, pushed into his neck as it was, but he heard the effects: the gasps and the moans and the blasphemous combination of the Lord's and Crowley's name in tandem. If Crowley had been employed it would have been a successful temptation of the highest order, but this wasn't for Hell or Heaven. This was for no one else save for a demon and an angel in a closet at the Ritz; in their own little corner of the universe they'd had a small hand in saving. 

Legs lowered of his own volition, Crowley took Aziraphale into his arms after extricating himself. "I've got you, angel."

"You always have," Aziraphale answered immediately, pressing a kiss into Crowley's neck. "For all of time, it seems."

"Nah," Crowley tried to deflect. "Pretty sure early on I was just trying to get under your skin."

"Naughty."

"Not-- _you're_ the naughty one, you know I didn't mean it like that."

A sigh, happy and sated, was all Crowley received in response. 

"We've most likely horrified the whole establishment."

"Ehhh, they'll be fine. I made the humans conveniently forget about the coat check as soon as we got here."

"Good thinking."

"Well, it was me who came up with all the good ideas."

"Ah, yes. Murder the antichrist. Brilliant idea."

"Oi, is that any way to treat your--"

Crowley broke off. What...what _were_ they exactly? It's not like Crowley could call himself Aziraphale's--

"Love."

Oh.

Maybe he could, then. 


End file.
